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by Toran
"Hello,
He knows he's had too much to drink.� He's into his second martini when she slides
onto the bar stool next to him, a whisper of musk perfume and heat.� He looks her full in the face from the
mirror, admires her long lustrous hair, and doesn't bat an eye when she fixes
him with a cool gaze in return.
He buys her first round, a knock-off metaxa brandy,
***
"Door's open."� It's her voice, he thinks.� So damn sexy and
commanding.� She's got the looks
but she backs it up with attitude.� Same old
"Fix yourself
a night-cap," she calls out.� Neither
a question nor offer - it's a command.
He smiles and finds her booze closet.� Hell, might as well keep to the gin.� He pours two quick shots and grimaces when
the fire erupts in his belly.� Glancing
up, he sees her standing in the doorway, a sheer white slip barely covering the
knockout body he couldn�t keep from staring at in the bar.� "Still dressed?"� She smiles, her full lips turning down at the
corners.� Slowly, gracefully, she comes
and gets him, taking him by the hand into the back room.� The bedroom.
But he's had too much to drink.� His clothes are gone before he knows it and
when he realizes that and tries to give her a kiss, hand pawing for her
breasts, she effortlessly pushes him down to his knees.� White slip and two beautiful calves are all
that's in his vision and he does well to keep them in focus.� The Tangueray martians have landed.
"Kiss my feet."�� One pointed white high heel slides under his
nose and when he isn't quick enough it's her hand that slams his head down into
her foot.� He's stunned �
"You're a shitty foot-kisser,
Bubba."� She's not happy with him,
her voice tells him this.� Then it's her
fingers in his hair and before he can do anything but yelp, she's dragged him
over to the bed.� Black satin sheets cool
to the touch, and he's laying flat on his back, staring up at the spinning
ceiling, more turned on than ever before in his life.� Absently he thinks it's the booze.� She crawls up from the foot of the bed and in
her hand is a mass of jet black snakes.
He tries to squirm away but she reaches,
lightning fast, for his balls, digging her fingernails in deep.� She crawls up past his belly, one hand locked
on his balls the other holding the fist full of writhing snakes.� And then she opens her fist and dumps the
black mass on his chest.� He screams and
she laughs.� It's only a pile of black
leather straps.� His head flops back and
before he can get his own laugh out, she's savagely twisted his balls one last
time and then straddles his chest.
Their eyes meet and he feels the first
whisper of fear deep down in the sober part of his mind.� She has the blackest eyes, so black it seems
as if her pupils have enlarged, covering everything but a thin band of white
around the edges.� And she's looking at
him with a cold animal intensity, the way he would think the spider looks at
the bug she�s just caught in her web.
Slowly, she picks one of the leather
straps from the pile in front of her on his chest and wraps it around one of
his wrists.� He can't move, can't even
take his eyes away from hers.� She's
hypnotized him, he thinks.� The whisper
of fear tells him he has to get away.�
But she leans over him, the swell of her right breast inside the silk
slip almost brushing his face, and his arm is pulled taut and anchored to a
post over his head.� As she leans into
him a second time, his free wrist in her hand, he can�t help himself and
quickly licks her left nipple through the slip as it slides past.� He hears her grunt as she tightens the strap,
anchoring his other arm to the bed.� She
picks up another strap and slides down his body, pausing for just a second at
his raging hard-on to flick his balls with the steel buckle.� He grimaces from the pain but allows his feet
to be strapped to opposite corners of the bed.�
He now feels more like the bug caught in her web than he wishes, but
there's nothing for him to do about it now.�
He's allowed himself to be caught.
He gasps as sharp fingernails from both
hands dig into his ankles, one on each side and, leaving a trail of softly
welling blood, she crawls up his body, fingernails finding the soft flesh of
his legs.� Again she stops at his dick
but just swats it aside.� Getting low
enough so that her soft warm breasts drag his torso, her fingernails dig five
ruts down each side of his chest.� He's
whimpering a little now, the whisper of fear turning into a scream of terror
and lust.
Taking another strap she loops the end
around the back of his head and pulls the free end through the buckle, just
above his mouth.
�Eliz-��
That�s all he gets out as, her eyes boring into his, she pulls the strap
tighter and tighter, until it slides effortlessly into his mouth, biting his
cheeks at the corners.� But she doesn't
stop.� She pulls the strap until his head
is lifted off the black satin pillow and his cheeks are puffed out so much that
his eyes feel like they're popping out of his head.� With one quick motion, she clicks the buckle
and he's tightly gagged.
But she holds onto the end of the strap,
holding his head so that it is inches from hers.� Her eyes huge and black, she leans in and
kisses him, roughly, her tongue flicking his taut lips.� He tries to cough, the gag reflex kicking in,
and she pulls back, her teeth finding his lower lip, quivering around the
leather strap.� She bites hard and he
thinks she may have sunken her teeth all the way through his flesh and, like an
animal seeking purchase, twists her head from side to side.
He screams, his lip almost ripping off
from her teeth and only when the first squirt of his blood fills their mouths
does she let go.� Her eyes are blazing
now and she lunges for his cheek, nipping and biting.� She finds his earlobe and punctures the
tender flesh there.� His thrashing is a
little late, as the straps tighten with every move he makes - he's slowly drawn
tighter into the bed, his limited movements getting smaller and smaller.
She doesn't stop.� She finds his neck and buries her teeth deep,
like a dark vampire.� Once,
twice, then three times.� All he
can do is feel the pain as her mouth finds his flesh and her hair whips his
face in a frenzy.�
Then she pulls back, blood trickling down her beautiful china-doll
cheeks and looks at him, a smile parting her over-red lips.
He rolls his eyes and gives the leather
straps one last panicked convulsion - he's now bound too tight.� He has no movement at all.� Spun out like the bug that only now begins to
realize that he's going to be eaten.� Eaten alive.
"My name isn't